Walking and Talking
Yesterday I had a day of rest in the charming seaside town of Deba. This was a proper sabbath (in the Christian sense) in that it was a Sunday. So I woke up in the morning, finished reading Dunbar’s Evolution of Religion book, and then went to church. That was kind of an odd juxtaposition: the academic analysis of why people developed and maintain religious practices, and then going to be part of the practice. But it was a cool experience.
Saint Maria’s Church in Deba is said (by the Debans, at least) to be one of the most important churches in Basque Country. It was very old, and very ornate, and all the singing was in Basque. That’s quite the language. Most linguists believe that it is a very old language, surviving from times before the other Indo-Eurpean languages came to the area. So it’s not related to the other Romance languages around here at all. Thankfully, they put up the words to the songs on slides. And I hope it wasn’t sacreligious for me to have my Google translator out (yes, it does Basque!) so I could see what we were singing. One of the songs was to the tune of Simon and Garfunkle’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” I’m not joking. From the words I got translated (and the place in the service it was placed), I think it was a song of repentance. Not sure that’s how S&G intended it!
I was sitting about two thirds of the way back from the front, and I was surprised at how many people came in. I counted 62 people sitting in front of me: 53 women and 9 men (counting the priest, who of course was a man). And I was easily in the youngest quartile, probably in the youngest tenth (what is that? A decitile??). For you staticistics fans, I’d also estimate the median age of those 62 people to be at about 70 years old. Neither the gender ratio nor age of the congregation surprised me that much for a place like this. In the Evolution of Religion book, he said that religious women outnumber religious men in almost every culture, and the reason he gave was that women tend to be more socially adept and therefore benefit more from the social cohesion that religious rituals bring about. Interestingly, when I turned around after the service, there were probably another 50 people sitting behind me, and I’d guess that they were younger and closer to a 4:1 or 3:1 female to male ratio. I wonder how Dunbar would explain that?? It’s not like they were young families. I didn’t see any children there. Maybe they need to start a souped up kids’ program where they slide down poles into the classrooms or play laser tag?!
The rest of the day I lounged and tried to dry out my shoes. Every once in a while I went into the bathroom where there was a hairdryer attached to the wall and blow it into my shoes until it overheated and died. Thankfully, after a half an hour or so, it would resurrect and I could do it again. After the last time of doing that this morning, I declared my shoes to be dry enough to wear.
It was about 65 degrees and sunny yesterday, and given that it’s a beach town, I figured I should jump in the water. There were probably 20 people out in the waves surfing in wetsuits. But being used to Lake Michigan, the water didn’t feel that bad to me. So I jumped in and did some body surfing, which was really quite fun. Today while I was hiking, I came across a couple from Utah who stayed in Deba yesterday too. We were talking about the beach and they said they saw one person in the water without a wetsuit “trying to body surf.” Yeah, that was me.
This morning at breakfast I was seated across from a young woman who didn’t speak or make eye contact at all with me. As usual, I used my very rudimentary Spanish in talking to the woman serving the food. And I assumed the young woman didn’t speak much Spanish, nor English. Then about 4 miles into the hike today, I caught up to her on the trail. I asked (in English) if she was German or Dutch. And she answered, “No, I’m Irish.” To which I said, “so we could have been speaking English at breakfast this morning.” She laughed and said, “but you were speaking Spanish” to which I said, “But was I really?!”
Sometimes when I meet someone like this, I wonder how close we’ve ever come to having our paths cross before. That’s kind of a weird question to ask someone, so you have to come at it more circumspectly. We walked together for about a mile, and I learned that she had been to Chicago to see Ireland play New Zealand’s All Blacks in rugby at Soldier Field. Hmm… I wasn’t there, but presumably we were within 100 miles of each other some point.
I also met a guy from Idaho, which I thought was interesting, because when I was looking up stuff about the Basque festival that had been going on in Deba, I saw that one of the biggest Basque festivals in the world is in Boise. Why was that, I asked my new Idahoian friend? He said a bunch of Basque people moved to Idaho a couple of generations ago because they have good sheep farms. Well, OK.
Then there were a bunch of other people on the trail today that just smiled and said “buen Camino” as I passed them. I was moving pretty fast today. After a day of rest yesterday, and the threat of rain any time today, I thought I would push pretty hard. It was 15 miles away from the sea and into the mountains. Lots of hills (2400 ft of climbing), but no rain, thankfully. My resting place tonight is in Markina-Xemin.
I’m at a place on the outskirts of town that has both a common bunk room, and private rooms. I learned that to stay in the common bunk rooms, you’re supposed to supply your own blanket or sleeping bag (all they give you is a bottom sheet). And it is getting cold at night in these parts. Not wanting to go buy the bedding I’d need, yesterday a sent a note to the place asking for a private room (which is equipped with a bed with blankets). When I got here today, a jolly older guy met me and asked “uno bed?” To which I answered, “Si, señor. Gracias.” And then he took me into the bunk room and pointed at one of the beds. I said, “No, señor, I have email reserving a room.” He rattled off a couple of sentences I didn’t understand, and then with the blank look on my face said “no Spanish?” “No, lo siento. Un pocito.” He said, “uno room?” “Si, señor. Como se dice este en español?” “Uno habitacion” he said.
That was one of those exchanges where after the fact I realized it was pretty obvious what I should have said. But in the moment, I still freeze up. Later I went down and asked him if he had any batteries for the TV remote (in Spanish, after practicing a few times). He looked confused but went and found some. He gave them to me and said something else in Spanish I didn’t understand. I asked him to speak it into my phone, where I have the Google translator going. He did (quite loudly), and I saw he was asking what I needed them for. Evidently my “for the TV remote” didn’t come through the first time. This time it did: “el control remoto para la televición”. It doesn’t seem so tough!
I spent a lot time on the trail today thinking about this book I’m supposed to be writing. I think I’ve figured out an interesting way to frame the whole thing so it doesn’t sound so academic and boring. I think I’ll shift my writing over to that until dinner time — which is practically an early bird special around these parts: 7:30pm!